‘Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?’
‘Um, not to worry. Tell you what, let’s stop shouting across the garden – come on in and you can tell me. If it’s decent, that is.’
‘Oh, if it has to be decent…’ Matt shrugged off his cap and pretended to walk away.
Rosy shook her head as she shut the window. Really, the man was so daft! But he did make her giggle. Sadly, though, he wasn’t getting any less gorgeous, or living any further away. Thank God she was blessed with a strong moral sense when it came to other women’s men and had the self-imposed chastity belt that was The Rule. Not to mention being too exhausted with endless politics, paperwork and poxy hearts. However, she could still be friendly, and who knew – he might join Team Save Our School.
‘Come on in then, but still – no insulting my sensibilities with your indecent ideas. Oh, and tell me, where did you get that hat? What on earth is it made from?’ Rosy said as she opened the door and led him through to the living room. His face was like a puppy, all happy and bouncy and full. Full largely of naughtiness and irresistibility.
‘Well, I think it’s quite a good idea rather than an indecent one. I knew you were in and obviously with the Sunday lunch thing not happening this week, I made a hat to fit the mood out of stuff at work and thought it would be nice if we…’ Matt paused as he entered the room and took in the scene around him. His little puppy eagerness fell off his face for a minute and he looked, for no apparent reason, as if the world had just kicked him hard and stolen his favourite bone.
‘Matt?’ Rosy queried, leaning forward and lightly touching his arm.
‘Uh?’
‘You thought it would be nice…’ She watched him shake his head as if to pull himself together and plaster his smile back on.
‘Oh yes, that’s right. I thought it would be nice to cook you lunch. Just in case you hadn’t. I mean, if you have, or have other plans I quite understand, it was a bit of a gamble but I knew you were in and I thought…’
‘You’ve cooked Sunday lunch? For when?’
‘Well, it’s Sunday and it’s lunchtime.’
‘You mean now?’
‘Yep.’
‘What have you cooked?’
‘Chicken and potatoes and stuffing, sweet potato, car—’
‘For now?’
‘Yes, but like I said—’
‘Oh my God! Roast chicken! Oh, I think I love you!’ Rosy grabbed his arms as tight as tight could be and started jumping up and down on the spot with excitement. Then realized what she’d said, flushed bright red and stopped jumping. But not blushing. So much for iron self-control; she was virtually crumpling over roast chicken!
‘So is that a yes? That looks like a yes.’ Matt smiled.
Rosy looked at the red hearts sprinkled over her carpet, and the ones still waiting to be cut out.
‘Um…’
‘Roast parsnips, French peas… Shall I go on?’
Rosy’s tummy rumbled as if in encouragement. Bloody typical!
‘Oh, it does sound delicious, really good. I didn’t mean to appear ungrateful. Let me grab my phone. I’d love to join you and Angelina for lunch.’
‘Ange is still in London.’
‘Oh…’ Rosy paused. How the hell was she going to get out of this now? ‘In that case, perhaps…’
‘Stop it! It’s lunch. There’s nothing nefarious going on. You need to eat, and I’ve cooked, so grab your phone and I shall sing you back to mine, milady. You can wear the hat.’
There was a definite pattern developing, one around yummy Sunday lunches and all sorts of silly giggling. They had talked and talked and talked: politics, fashion, current affairs, gossip, weather, best holidays ever, dreams, ambitions, baby names, Rosy’s secret passion for Wotsits, pink wafers and Dairylea – everything. They played each other their top three tracks of all time, with Matt shrieking that she had stolen his when she put on ‘Walk on the Wild Side’. She had even told him about the possibility of the school closure, and her doubts that she was political enough to be able to save it. He had listened, said if he could help in any way then he would and reassured her that he had complete faith in her abilities. She wasn’t sure how but really appreciated it all the same. And then to top it off she was currently sitting on one of those swingy stool things she had always coveted for herself. Even their furniture choices would be identical, if she had the budget and the time.
However, as comfortable as Rosy was becoming in Matt’s company (and house), and as much as she was enjoying today, she was aware she was beginning to develop a proper crush. Trying to remind herself of The Rule was tough when she was so relaxed that she was constantly laughing.
